Blood and Tradition
by StrawberryObsession
Summary: Delphine has always known and enjoyed her place in her small world, surrounded by pureblood ideals and relatives, but when she enters her first year at Hogwarts, she encounters people from all types of backgrounds. Can she overcome her prejudice and take a new direction in her life, or will she delve even deeper into the darkness of her family to the point of no return?
1. Prologue, Part I

**A/N:** This is my first fanfiction, so I apologize if it's not up to snuff yet, but I aim to improve as much as I can. Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoy what you see.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter; all characters, places, and just anything cool belong to good ol' J.K. except for the OC's.

* * *

Kreacher was used to the quiet these days, he mused to himself as he knitted a fuzzy, green blanket. Mistress was more pensive, Master was working. That _nasty blood-traitor_ Sirius had long since moved out and good Master Regulus was often gone with the Death Eaters. Of course Mistress and Kreacher were proud of him, working for a cleaner future, but something seemed off. Master Regulus seemed off. He'd always been a quiet child, obedient and observant, but his tendency to keep to himself was no longer him being unsociable—rather, it had turned secretive and conspiratorial.

Maybe it began when the Bad One went off to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor. No, it must have started when he was sixteen. He'd joined Lord Voldemort's cause like his cousins and met that Malfoy child. Miss Narcissa's in-law. Kreacher didn't like Hester Malfoy. Kreacher didn't think Master Regulus did much either.

No, Kreacher knew how Master Regulus kept pictures of the pale girl wearing blue and bronze in his room. Kreacher knew how Master Regulus would take out his special box, a simple wooden one—rather rough and poorly-made, Kreacher thought—and just stare at it for hours before putting it away—never looking inside. Kreacher knew how Master Regulus didn't cry, but didn't smile either. And it was all Hester Malfoy's fault.

She tricked Master Regulus! She tricked his poor, sweet master! Poor Master Regulus, married to a nasty, undeserving witch…

Kreacher stopped, feeling a strange tug come from the blanket, and looked down at his lap. Sometime during his inner rant, he'd managed to get the yarn knotted in places and left large holes in the blanket in others. He'd also completely bent the knitting needles he'd been using. Grumbling to himself, Kreacher started to undo the damage on the blanket, blaming the misfortune on Hester Malfoy, but not before snapping his fingers and fixing the needles.

Nasty Hester Malfoy, who made Master Regulus angry and wont to partake in firewhiskey when he finally came home. That awful witch, not at all like the pretty girl that Master Regulus used to bring home who would smile at Kreacher and thank him for bringing treats. Kreacher liked the pretty girl. Master Regulus did too. But now Master Regulus was married to the nasty woman who was mean to poor Kreacher and was disrespectful to Mistress. But Kreacher was glad because kind Master Regulus told Kreacher to not serve Hester Malfoy, and gladder still that Hester Malfoy did not live in Grimmauld Place.

But Kreacher liked young Master Cepheus, Master Regulus' son with the mean witch. Young Master Cepheus made funny baby noises that Master Regulus used to make, and he made Mistress and Master Black smile when he came to visit. But Young Master Cepheus came only very rarely, when Hester Malfoy wanted to gloat or stir trouble.

A sharp _crack_ split the air.

"Kreacher? Where are you, old friend?" came the tired call of his master.

Kreacher ran to greet his Master. "Master Regulus! Kreacher welcomes his Master Regulus back! How was Master Regulus' day?"

Regulus gave a small smile to Kreacher and took off his cloak, folding it over his arm. "It was fine, Kreacher. The meeting was like any other." Master Regulus trailed off and looked to the side, his eyes lined with unspoken worries. Kreacher wished to learn what troubled Master Regulus so and make it better. Regulus shook his head, dispelling the disquiet, and turned to Kreacher. "What have you and mother been up to? I'm sure father was out at the Ministry, working as always, right?"

"Oh! Kreacher has been cleaning and knitting today," here Kreacher held up the unfinished blanket, the needles poking out the side, "and Mistress has been in the study all day, reading and partaking in correspondence with Miss Narcissa. Miss Narcissa is wanting a baby and wants to see Young Master Cepheus." Here, Regulus frowned, but Kreacher was caught up in telling his story and didn't notice. "Kreacher has been trying to make a blanket the little master. Kreacher thinks the little master is too pale and needs to stay warm. Not that Kreacher thinks anything is wrong is with the little master! Kreacher just… Master Black has been out since morning, but Master seemed to have a slight cough, so Kreacher made Master some tea."

Kreacher, beaming with pride at his report despite stumbling over his words, looked to Regulus for some form of acknowledgement, but Regulus just walked further into the house and took a seat on one of the chairs near the floo.

"Cissy wants to see Cepheus? Why does she ask mother? She should have asked me when I saw her. Or better yet, had Lucius ask me—or Hester—after the meeting," Regulus mused aloud, wiping his bangs from his eyes.

Kreacher twisted his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels. He opened his mouth before closing it. And then turned his head to look behind him. Kreacher's fidgeting alerted Regulus to his disquiet.

"Kreacher? What is it? Do you know something?"

Kreacher looked up at Regulus. "Perhaps, it is… Perhaps, Miss Narcissa is not wanting Master Regulus or Mister Lucius to know she is wanting to see young Master Cepheus?"

Regulus' face twisted in confusion. "Wha-? Why would she hide something like that? She knows how I favor her. It's not like I would deny her such a request." Here, his voice trailed off. "Unless she knows how Hester and I fight and wanted to spare me… But then why not have Lucius ask her? The relationship between those two cousins is the best out of all of us…"

"Hmm… Perhaps… It is because of the miscarriage?"

Regulus stopped breathing. _"What did you say?"_

Ah! He wasn't supposed to say! Mistress told him not to say! Kreacher, sobbing, began banging his head against the floor at Master Regulus' feet. "Bad Kreacher! Bad Kreacher! The worst house elf! Bad Kreacher!"

"Kre-Kreacher, stop! Stop that, I say!"

Kreacher stilled, but his cries were still audible. Regulus sighed and gently lifted Kreacher's head and looked over his bloody forehead with concern.

"Don't worry overmuch, Kreacher. I've already forgotten. Now let's get you cleaned up. Come, to the kitchen."

Regulus took Kreacher's hand and began leading the way. Once there, he picked Kreacher up and sat him on the counter like a child before dabbing Kreacher's forehead with a cool, wet cloth.

"Now, I think there should be some dittany in the cupboard," he mused quietly as he walked towards it.

Kreacher hastily jumped up. "Oh, no, Master Regulus! Kreacher mustn't! Kreacher is quite pleased with all Master Regulus has done and is perfectly fine! Please, don't," he cried, shaking his head. Regulus looked at him quietly. He knew pursuing it was a lost cause, but it hurt to think of his poor friend in pain.

"But it would make _me_ feel better, Kreacher, knowing you were completely healed," Regulus said softly. He looked away, as if pained deeply. Kreacher fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

"Oh, Master Regulus! Please, Master Regulus, don't be upset with Kreacher! Kreacher will take medicine. He will! He will!"

Regulus turned back to Kreacher with a large smile, medicine in hand. "Excellent! Here you go." He quickly dabbed some onto Kreacher and gave a true smile once he saw the damage healed.

Kreacher knew he'd been tricked by his sweet Master Regulus and loved him even more for it. Master Regulus truly was a kind and gentle soul. But still…

"Does Master Regulus also treat young Master Cepheus' hurts?"

Regulus quickly stood to his full height and looked at Kreacher. Kreacher wished he could read the emotion in Master Regulus' eyes. At one point, Kreacher could read every thought and feeling Master Regulus had just by looking at his face. And Master Regulus would tell Kreacher freely, not even needing gentle prompting. But Master Regulus was different now and it broke both Kreacher's and the Mistress' hearts.

"Kreacher, does my relationship with Cepheus give you cause to concern?" Regulus' voice was void of emotion and Kreacher was unsure what answer to give.

Wringing his hands, Kreacher looked at the floor. "Kreacher feels that… Kreacher wonders if…"

" _Look_ at me, Kreacher," came the commanding voice. Regulus rarely used such a tone, but when he did, Kreacher wanted to curl up on the floor and cry, begging for forgiveness.

Kreacher obediently looked up at Master Regulus' face with tears in his eyes. "Kreacher knows Master Regulus loves young Master Cepheus. Kreacher knows!" Regulus' eyes softened but remained unfeeling. "But Kreacher worries because Master Regulus always distances himself from the little master, and Kreacher worries for the little master because he's stuck with that nasty, awful, _horrible_ witch!" Here, Kreacher threw his body at Master Regulus' feet and began weeping anew.

"Poor Master Cepheus! Poor Master Regulus! Poor-"

Regulus took Kreacher into his arms and began gently rubbing his back, making soothing noises. Kreacher wrapped his arms around his master's neck, beginning to quiet down in his master's comforting embrace.

"I know that… I know that I haven't been the most affectionate of fathers to Cepheus. But you're right—I _do_ love him. He is my son. As much as I hate his mother, I love my son. But a part of me… A part of me is scared to get close to him. He is as good a son as any I might have wished for… If I'd wished for him… You know I didn't want him, Kreacher. At least not with Hester. If he had born from Anara… Anara and I… Well, who knows? But the main truth is that I worry about this war. And my role in it. If I get compromised, I don't want Cepheus to be targeted to get to me. I don't know if what I'm doing is right—for anyone—but I have to try… I have to…"

Kreacher lifted his head as his master's voice trailed off. He sounded so lost and confused. "Master? Is there something about your work you find… disagreeable?"

Regulus shook himself and looked down at Kreacher, letting him go and standing. "Don't worry about it, old friend. I'll do what needs to be done…"

"But what needs to be done? Master?"

Regulus walked away, not giving away his thoughts as he went in search of his room. He gripped his arm, thinking of his orders and wishing for days long past. Anara…

He stopped in front of a door with a sign declaring "Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black." He remembered when she made it… She was so beautiful, smiling like the carefree girl she was despite her fingers being bandaged and wrapped from injuries she caused herself while making it. He gave a small smile, thinking of his stubborn girl. She always insisted on doing mundane tasks without the use of magic, insisting it increased the value of something. At the time, he'd just smiled and let her do as she pleased without sharing his skepticism. But now? Now he cherished every curve in the carving, every nick and imperfection, every beautiful flaw that proved that she'd existed…

He walked passed the door and into his room. There, by the window, stood an unmistakable owl— _her_ _owl_ —with a letter addressed to him.


	2. Prologue, Part II

In the back of a dimly lit bar in muggle London sat a young woman with short, choppy chocolate brown hair. To any passersby, she seemed reasonably attractive—more sprite-like than truly beautiful—but queer on account of her strange attire: a deep blue robe of sorts with silver buttons that, if one looked at closely, were shaped like frogs and boots that appeared to be of reptilian origin save for their gaudy orange color. Or that's what any of them would have thought if they saw her (thanks to a notice-me-not charm, she remained a shadow in the corner of their eyes, easily passed off and soon forgotten).

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour, Anara checked her timepiece before fidgeting with the fastenings on her cloak. _He's late…_

She sighed. It was her own fault for expecting anything. Just as she stood from her seat, a hand fell upon her shoulder, pushing her back down. Her head shot up in surprise to greet the face of the man she'd been awaiting.

 _"Regulus,"_ she breathed.

Blank gray eyes swept over her face, noting the lines around hazel eyes that were new to him and the peeling skin on pale pink lips from where she'd bitten them, either too hard or too often, he couldn't say for sure. Briefly, he wondered if she'd done the injustice to her once-perfect lips while thinking about him, felt his heart both rejoice and despair at the notion before silently admonishing himself. Despite the new additions to her face and the paleness of her cheeks, her eyes still seemed so bright as they looked into Regulus' and he thought her still the most exquisite creature he'd ever had the fortune of meeting.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Regulus looked down and pulled her letter out of his cloak, gently caressing the parchment as he unfolded it.

"I must admit," he began, "I didn't expect to ever see you again. Let alone in a place like…" He trailed off as he looked at the muggle patrons in the bar, all grimy fools bumbling along, ignorant of the witch and wizard not five feet from them. "This," he finished distastefully.

Rolling her eyes, Anara scoffed before pulling on Regulus' arm and forcing him into a chair. "Don't be such a snob, Reg. I picked this place because it seemed the safest for us to meet." When Regulus pointedly looked at a burly individual pawing through the bag of a man passed out on a table and raised an eyebrow at her, she got a blotchy spattering of red across her cheeks. "I _meant_ that it seemed the least likely place any Order members or any of your… umm, well… I didn't think many—if any—magical folk would frequent a hole-in-the-wall muggle establishment such as this."

Regulus cracked a smile at the flustered woman and, catching his expression, she too began to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Soon they were both chuckling quietly at the other, but soon the smiles faded from their cheeks as they both stared at different objects, Anara at the grains of wood in the table and Regulus at the brick on the wall.

"I, uh," Anara began. Regulus looked up, hearing the strangling noise in Anara's throat. Her eyes, staring at the intertwined hands in her lap, were watery but she wore a twisted smile. "I heard that Hester Malfoy gave birth to a baby some time back." She paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes met his. "It was a safe delivery, I hope? The baby is healthy? I know that many purebloods from the old lines have difficulty having children, so I just…"

Regulus swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, seeing her lips continue to move but unable to hear any more for the blood rushing in his ears. She was so kind, so beautiful. For a moment, he imagined how life could have been if there hadn't been a war, if he hadn't chosen the path he did, if he hadn't been such a fool and betrayed his most precious person. Would they have been happy together? Indubitably. They would have been so happy, even if his mother disapproved despite Anara coming from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families (likely because the Fawley family were generally Hufflepuff blood-traitors that had fallen out of high pureblood society). They would have led a fun but modest life with him working for the Ministry as an Unspeakable and her off gallivanting, dragging him on his vacations to exotic places where she could study magical plants and creatures with him. And after a few years, they'd settle in a place where she could study the local creatures and they'd raise their children. So caught up in his thoughts, Regulus missed when Anara stopped speaking until he noticed her faintly bemused look.

"Did you catch any of that, or were you too enraptured by the doorframe behind me?" she teased, a long-missed sparkle present in her eyes. Regulus managed a small, half-hearted smile as he shifted in his seat.

"I have no idea what you are implying—I am a gentlemen and I always pay attention to my dear friends have to say."

Anara gave a disbelieving hum but let the matter go. "So, your… son?"

Regulus straightened. "Yes, his name is Cepheus. He was born early last February, so he's a little over eight months old. I have, ah." Regulus started going through each of his pockets in his robes. He gave a short exclamation of triumph as he pulled out a photograph, glancing over it briefly—but fondly—before handing it to Anara. "Here, this was taken the last time I saw him, so about… a month and a half ago?"

Anara slowly held out her hand to accept the photo, taking a few seconds to look at Regulus before turning her attention to the moving image in her hands. Her breath caught. A baby with big blue eyes and a shock of blond hair was swaddled in black cloth was looking at the camera before slowly giving a shy smile. He was being held in someone's arms—likely Walburga's judging by the thin, slightly wrinkly hands.

"He's beautiful, Regulus," she said softly, handing back the treasured photo. "He's going to be quite the heartthrob when he goes off to Hogwarts—maybe even earlier than that if Hester and your mother flaunt him off at those socials they so love."

Regulus gave a short bark of laughter. "Perhaps. He looks just like his mother, though," he said quietly as he mulled over the image.

"That's not such a bad thing, though, right? Hester is very beautiful… And many babies resemble one parent during infancy but grow into the other parent's features during adolescence. He may be a mini-Reg yet." Anara gave Regulus a, what she hoped to be, comforting smile, but he didn't look up.

"We'll see." Regulus put the photo back in one of his many pockets, before looking at Anara seriously and folding his hands on the table. "But, pleasantries aside, there's something else we need to talk about, isn't there?" He shot her a hard look. "It must be fairly important, since you called me all the way out here after we agreed to not see each other anymore. What is it you require of me?"

Regulus waited calmly while Anara took a moment, staring at the table for a few minutes to steel herself, but inside he was worried—worried that she'd gotten in too deep while helping the Order (and his estranged big brother) and was in danger. Well, in more danger than she had already been in for coming from a well-known blood-traitor family. Finally, she looked up but Regulus couldn't decipher the look in his eyes. Gone was his friend, gone was the girl he'd grown up with, the woman he'd come to love. In her place was a stranger. A stranger who meant business.

"Regulus, I know that you're a Death Eater." He swore his heart stopped, but she kept on going, giving nothing away on her face about her thoughts on the matter, though, given the years they'd spent together, he felt he could reasonably guess them. "I know you've been one since the Yule you turned sixteen. I know you believe in this cause, but I come to you now because I need your help and I still trust you despite all of that." Here, her mask slipped and her eyes turned watery and desperate. She looked at him now like she did years ago, as if he was the only person in the world she could turn to. His mouth felt dry. " _Please_ , Reg, help me."

Staring at her face, so tearful and lost, how could he say no to her? But how could he turn on his beliefs, his Lord? Then again, hadn't he been contemplating doing just that after the last meeting? While he believed in blood purity and hated having to hide from muggles, some of the things that they'd been ordered to do… He couldn't agree with that.

"What do you need?"


End file.
